Good Men, Bad Men
by jayer
Summary: Still torn about whether to continue the team, Jack is brought a case that hits very close to home.
1. Chapter 1

It was an appropriately dreary day. The sky darkened by a blanket of grey clouds, the rain a constant, strong drizzle with just enough wind to whip and sting the face.

The priest's words blended with the wind and the murmuring sobs to form a keen, the sound of which was a knife stabbing him, piercing his heart through to his very soul.

Jack's hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the umbrella in a vain attempt to shield Mrs O'Brien from the downpour. He had to admire her, standing tall and proud despite it all. The wife of a decorated army officer, mother and grandmother to police officers. All taken in the line of duty. Jack couldn't help but admire her. He was trying very hard to follow her example, publicly stoic and proud but later in private not giving a damn about proper form. His hands weren't trembling from the cold as much as the overwhelming desire to punch something.

Although they were just out of his line of sight, he could feel Jess and TomTom standing beside him. TomTom holding up his own umbrella, this one more noticeably shaking. His arm would be around her, a ruse to make it appear he was comforting Jess when really it was TomTom whose's face was damp with silent tears. Despite the nagging, the seeming jealousy that Charlie got 'the good bits', the two had quickly become friends. It was a twisting of the knife in Jack's heart. They were his responsibility and he had failed one of them.

_"__oy, you look like hell Jack." _

_"__Stan." Jack said weakly. He took the cup the older man held out. "thanks for coming."_

_"__Any word?"_

_"__No."_

_"__How long has it been?"_

_"__Almost three hours." Jack sipped the coffee. It was hot and bitter and stung his mouth. He was grateful just be to be able to have coffee burn like that. He watched, barely really registering as Stan picked up the jacket that had fallen on the floor, draping it back over TomTom who had passed out on one of the sofas. _

_"__He's a tough one our Charlie." _

_"__I know, but this." Jack shook his head. His gaze fell on Jess standing at a window just staring out into the night. "I think I made a mistake Stan."_

_"__Going after Jaime Caine?"_

_"__This whole team. Sounded like such a bloody perfect thing when they first came to me. But now it's completely cocked up._

_"__You know I got called in today. Thought for certain they were going to tear us up. Send us packing and I was going to be grateful. Just end it here and now."_

_"__You certain that's what you'd want? They wouldn't likely keep you if they had."_

_"__I wouldn't want them to. I could work security or private investigation. Perhaps keep Jess with me."_

_"__And TomTom?"_

_"__He's a smart kid, likely could have gone to university even. Still could. Get himself a job in an office working IT."_

_"__I can't see that. TomTom in an office, button down shirt, short back and sides." Stan laughed. _

_"__Alright then, one of those corner shops. Fixing computers for jumpy blokes spilled coffee in it or little old ladies accidentally downloading pornography viruses."_

_"__He's hate it either way."_

_"__But he'd be safe. With me I can't say that. Charlie knew the risks, he agreed to them becoming a cop. But TomTom, he wasn't trained for this, he barely knows how to handle a gun, how to fight."_

_"__You could teach him. Or have Jess do it. But then you'd be out of excuses wouldn't you. Couldn't keep him tucked away at home safe and sound anymore."_

_"__Exactly."_

The rustling of movement roused Jack from his thoughts. He watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave, stepped up to take a handful of the soil and toss it in, struggling to keep the tears at bay.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Jess gave the older woman a hug. "Charlie was a good officer."

"Thank you. My Charles spoke very highly of all of you."

"He was a good guy." TomTom nodded. "A good friend."

"Stan will drive you home." Jack pulled out a card. "If you need anything, anything at all, you be sure to give a ring now okay."

"Meet you lot at the pub. We'll send him off proper."

They waited until Stan had pulled away before turning towards the van.

A figure in black was waiting for them.

"No." Jack said firmly.

"Jack, please just"

"No Helen. Not today."

"This can't wait."

"It'll have to. Or did you miss that we just buried Charlie. Hole's not even filled yet. So frankly I don't care who is plotting what, today they get a free pass in my book. Today we're going to go to the pub and raise a glass. Then we'll go home, have a good cry. And tomorrow we'll decide if we're keen to do this anymore. If we decide yes, I'll give you a ring."

Jack nodded to the others to get in the van. Jess took the drivers, TomTom in the back. Jack brushed past Helen to walk to the other side.

"If was my fault." Helen said, stopping Jack in his tracks. "I'm the one that brought the case to you. I'm the one that put all of you in danger. I'm the one, ultimately, that got Charles O'Brien killed. Not you.

"Now there is someone else in danger, someone that needs protecting. And someone else that needs to be caught."

"There's a whole department for that."

"I'm not certain they can be trusted. Please Jack, just ten minutes. If I can't convince you then I can't. I'll find another way."

Jack sighed. "Jess, TomTom, go on then. I'll be right behind you."

Jack followed Helen to her car.

"All right. Clock's ticking."

Helen pulled out a stack of file folders. She handed the first one to Jack.

"Muni Sinha Patel. He was 63. Ran a news agent just off the estate. Friendly, made donations to the local junior football team. He knew the names and birthdates of every child on the estate. He'd let them pick a free candy on their birthday. He'd found a pair of old video games at some closed up boardwalk arcade, fixed them up, put them in the shop.

"Quite the bloke."

"He was. According to some of the residents of the estate, he'd been a school teacher until he moved there after his wife and children were killed in a motor accident. He'd stopped teaching but he would tutor some of the children, especially in math."

"And someone killed him?"

"Yes. It was Midsummer's. Delivery man came to the shop to drop off the early editions, fresh monthlies. Found the door open and Patel dead. Someone had shot him, four times. The sad part is that none of the wounds were instantly fatal. Patel had actually bled out, likely while trying to crawl to the counter to call 999."

Jack thumbed through the crime scene photos.

"Police at the time had no leads. There had been quite a storm the night before so no one heard the shots. The murder happened late in the evening after everyone would be home. The till was empty so Patel was likely closing up for the night, had already pull the money away."

"That might piss off a robber. Four shots seems like someone was in a foul mood."

"That was the first thought the detectives had. This was before security cameras were common so they had nothing. Community Support helped canvas the estate hoping for someone that might have seen an odd person or car around. Again nothing.

"Then about a week later, emergency services received a call. A young boy said his father was trying to kill him. Police went to the estate and found the father in a drunken rage, trying to beat down a bed room door."

Helen handed Jack the second folder. Jack opened it to a photo of a dark haired boy, his face bloodied and bruised.

"Thomas Finchner. 11 years old. Black eye, fractured cheek bone, bruised ribs, possible concussion, whiplash. Father had punched him several times, threw him against a wall and kicked him. And that was just that night. The boy's medical history is full of incidents, trips to A&E. He was a small boy, slight in build. No one really questioned claims of falling off his skateboard or trouble with schoolyard bullies. Not until William Finchner was arrested. Compliments of his son who had witnessed the whole thing and told the police where to find the murder weapon. Then suddenly the estate was talking. Suspicions that Finchner had beaten the boy other times, that he'd been beating his wife and finally drove her away."

"If there were true, why not take the boy with her."

Helen handed the last folder to him. "See for yourself."

"Community Support Officer." Jack said disgusted. "Tell me you're joking."

"No. Finchner lived right on the estate. He had helped with the canvas for witnesses after Patel's murder. And he had helped a few weeks before with another one following up on an anonymous call that one of the children on the estate was being abused. A call that, it was later discovered, was the day after Thomas allegedly sprained his wrist slipping down some damp steps."

"So Patel is friendly with the children, sorts out that Thomas is being hit on. He calls it in but seeing as the father is a cop he isn't willing to give his name. Probably counting on them to send other officers not go with a local. Which is exactly what they do so Thomas isn't about to speak up himself. Finchner finds out it was Patel what tried to grass him up, confronts the old man late one night and kills him. No idea the boy was around and saw it. Likely a drunken bastard who got drunk a few nights later and goes after the lad who is so terrified his father is out of control that he finally gets the nerve to speak up."

"More or less."

"And? Case is closed. You got your killer."

"Unfortunately, we couldn't keep him. Finchner was found to be missing approximately 30 minutes ago. A food delivery van had left ten minutes before and it's believed that somehow Finchner bribed someone to get him on the truck and out of the prison. There had been an internal investigation in the works over bent cops stealing money and drugs from crime scenes. Finchner wasn't on the list before his arrest but after he was added at the top. And now Metro thinks he might have used that money and partnerships to escape."

"You want us to try to sniff out who might be an old friend of Finchner's, who might know where he's hiding?"

"No. I want you to find the boy and protect him."

"The kid? You want us to babysit some kid?"

"His only living relative was the maternal grandmother but it was decided he should be placed into foster care. Concerns about her age. Thomas was placed into the records under a pseudonym and eventually about a year later he was adopted. All of the records were sealed and even under current law the only person that is supposed to have access is the adopted child. Not even the grandmother could find him."

"So Thomas Finchner vanishes, becomes a ghost."

"Unfortunately someone sorted out the records. Got the information to Finchner. A bit of the note was found in his toilet when they were searching his cell."

"And you think he's pissing mad enough to come find the boy and kill him."

"According to the court records he made that very threat when his son was on the witness stand." Helen sighed. "Will you help?"

"Drive me to the pub. I'll give you my answer when we get there."

It was a silent twenty minutes as they drove in the early evening traffic. Helen pulled the car over and put the engine in neutral. She waited.

Jack sat staring at the files. He thumbed through the papers, stopping at the photo of the bloodied and beaten child. Looking at it he actually wished Helen had asked them to find the man. Find the sick bastard that would do that to his own child. Jack would have taken that request on his own. Jess would have wanted to shoot the man if she knew. And he'd been inclined to let her.

But all she wanted was for them to find the kid. The kid that took a beating and took the stand. Called out the bad man who had killed someone that was probably nice to him. Gave him sweets and sodas, taught him about sums and such and tried to help him. Bad man kills a good man and you do something, anything. A childish way of thinking and a brave one. Jack had to admire the kid for that. Thomas Finchner had the heart of a cop, a good cop. Not some slimy bent one like his old man.

"You just want us to protect him. Find him and his new family and put them up somewhere safe, somewhere the cops won't think of. Can't trace cause it's not one of their safe houses."

"Exactly. The only plus is that although we only got the bottom of the letters, the note appears to have only had a name and London on it. No numbers. So Finchner may not have an exact address. Including addresses for the boys adopted family. We need to find them to ensure that they can't give Finchner any information about Thomas. The grandmother is already in custody and has been questioned but she only speaks to him by phone once a week and he calls her. Her phone is a landline with no caller ID and she claims that he's been kipping on friends sofas for a while so she doesn't have an address."

Helen noticed Jack's confused look. "You didn't notice the date?"

Jack flipped open the murder. "Didn't. So he'd be 25 now. That could make it harder, he might have a wife and a baby, or at least a girlfriend. Fellow's not going to disappear and leave them behind."

"True. That could make things a bit sticky. But will you do it? You promised me an answer."

"Good thing we like sticky. Can you get me everything you have, digital if you please. TomTom has spoiled me on the whole paper free thing."

"You don't want to ask them first?"

"Even if they say no, I'm in." Jack started out of the car. "If only cause I want to meet a kid that was that tough."

"Jack. Wait."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I didn't tell you everything. I needed to know that you were doing this because you thought it was the right thing to do. I suppose I hoped that might mean you would consider continuing even after this. It was a rotten ploy and I'm sorry.

"He does need your protection but we already know who he is. They found the rest of the note in the waterworks. He's been on our radar for a while, although for other reasons."

"And?"

Helen held out her mobile. "See for yourself." She pushed her thumb to the fingerprint sensor, unlocking the phone

Jack gasped as he flipped the phone around to read the writing on the photograph. _Thomas Tompkins, London_


	3. Chapter 3

Jack took a breath and pulled open the door. Stan was at the bar chatting with the pretty blonde bartender.

"She's far too young for you." Jack quipped as he walked up. "Pint and a whiskey if you would. And whatever the old man is having."

"The same, Katie." Stan winked. "And give your mother my love."

"You get Mrs O'Brien home without any trouble."

"No trouble but her insisting I come for tea."

"Imagine she's feeling a bit lonely."

"She told me to bring the whelp so she could fatten him up."

"Not sure TomTom could handle her."

"Not so certain I could either. She's a tough one."

"So are you going to go?"

"Be better than saying home and eating take out curry."

The bartender set two shot glasses and two pints on the counter. "First one's on the house."

Jack picked up the shot glass. "To Charlie."

"Aye. To Charlie."

Jack looked around the room. Jess was sitting over in their corner. Two empty pint glasses and a good half dozen shot glasses littered the table. Jess was nursing a third pint.

"Where is TomTom?" Jack said as he picked up the pint.

"He wandered off a few minutes ago, something about needing a wee." Stan shook his head. "Face looked like someone had kicked his dog. I reckon he's in the mens having a bit of a cry and didn't want anyone seeing him."

"Likely." Jack took a long drink. "I need to dry off a bit. Take this over to the table for me?"

Jack wandered down the short hallway to the washrooms. As he opened the door he could see TomTom staring out the window. Or he would be if it wasn't glazed glass.

"Hey. There you are." Jack said casually as he reached for some towels. "Got rain running down everything."

"You can hear it on the window." Jack ignored what appeared to be TomTom wiping his face. If he didn't want anyone to know, Jack certainly wasn't going to call him out.

"Looks like I have some catching up to do." Jack smiled as he pitched the damp towels in the bin. "You good?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

Jack followed TomTom back out into the pub. He was torn between saying something right then and waiting. If Finchner had any real information someone could be on their way there. Then again, it didn't make sense that the man, lunatic that he was, would gun down his own son in a pub full of police officers. So perhaps this was the best place for TomTom to be, protection wise.

"What took you so long?" Jess snapped as Jack dropped into his favorite seat. "You said you'd be right behind us."

"I decided to be a gentleman and let Helen make her whole argument." Jack said, reaching for his beer. "I'll get the next round as payment."

"And the crisps."

"of course."

"So what's the situation?"

"Nothing we need to worry about tonight."

"Nothing we need to worry about tonight but it was still important enough for Helen Barlow to turn up at the funeral." Jess fumed. "You're a bad liar Jack."

"I'm a great liar. Lying is one of my best skills." Jack shot back.

"You turned her down didn't you."

"No."

"Yes you did. You turned her down. Well if you aren't interested, I'll do it myself."

"Jess. I didn't turn her down. I swear. It's just tonight is about Charlie so I told her it would have to wait."

"And she agreed to that." TomTom sounded surprised.

"I didn't give her a choice." Jack downed the last of his beer. "Now I'm going to get that round so we can make a proper toast. TomTom, come help carry?"

"Sure."

"Hey Katie. Another round and some crisps."

"Have to get the crisps from the back, I"m all out. I'll bring them round in a few."

Jack balanced the shot glasses in his hands and followed TomTom back. He spread out the glasses before picking up his own. "To Charlie."

"Charlie." The others raised their glasses. They downed their drinks and sat in silence for what seemed like an age, each lost in their own thoughts about their fallen friend.

"Well call me an old man if you like." Stan finally broke the silence. "But I think I'm going to head home. Goodnight all." He gave Jack and TomTom a friendly nod and Jess a kiss on the cheek before disappearing.

"Perhaps we all should." Jack sighed. "it's been a hell of a week."

"Yeah, I'm not really feeling like the pub anyway." Tom reached for his jacket.

"We'll meet first thing at the ranch and you'll tell us what is going on."

"Sure."

"Good. I'll beat it out of you if you don't." Jess stormed off.

"TomTom, if you want, you can kip on my sofa tonight."

"I'm fine."

"You sure? It's really no bother. If you'd rather not be alone."

"Do I look that pathetic?"

"No. It's just I remember the first time and it was rough." Jack was grateful he didn't actually have to lie. As ways of keeping someone under surveillance go, this was a very convenient one.

"It's really not a bother?"

"Not at all. Come on."

They drove in silence to Jack's flat. As he pulled the car into a parking space, Jack spotted someone lurking in the shadows.

"Stay in the car a minute." Jack reached under his seat for his gun.

"What is it?"

"There's someone. Probably nothing but wait here. if something does happen, get yourself out of here."

"Jack, I —"

"I mean it TomTom." Jack pulled out his mobile. "Anything at all, you drive out of here. Go to the ranch. Helen Barlow's number is in my phone. You call her and tell her what happened. Promise me."

"I'll right."

Jack slowly got out of the car. "Whoever you are, I'm armed. Show yourself or I will have to fire."

Jess stepped out. "You and TomTom getting an early start?"

"In a manner of speaking. TomTom is the case."

"What does that mean?"

"Watch for anything funny." Jack waved to TomTom that it was all clear. He kept his eyes scanning the area as the young man got out of the car and walked over to join them. Jack quickly pushed them inside, double checking the locks behind them.

"What does that mean, Jack? TomTom is the case?"

"I wasn't going to say anything till morning. Let you get a good night's sleep."

"Out with it." TomTom piped up.

"Maybe you wanna sit down."

TomTom shook his head as he leaned against the counter.

"Short version. William Finchner escaped and he knows you're in London."

TomTom's face went white in an instant.

Jack nodded toward the hall. "On the right."

He could hear the younger man retching through the door.

"Who the bloody hell is William Finchner?"

"He's TomTom's father. And he wants to kill him."


End file.
